Roots
by Gedia Kacela
Summary: Twenty years after his own Graduation, Snape revisits the home he abandoned to serve under Voldemort.


Roots  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belonging to J.K. Rowling belongs to me. It's that simple. Though I am plotting to steal Snape... *evil laugh*  
  
Author's Note: I've had this idea for a bit, of Snape revisiting his former home, the home he abandoned when he became a Death Eater. It has since grown into this, and I must say I'm quite proud of it, as I think Snape stays in character despite all the angstiness. But you can be the judge of that.  
  
***  
  
There was a soft but firm rap on Professor Dumbledore's office door. "Come in!" he called with his usual cheeriness. The door burst open to reveal the glowering countenance of Professor Snape. Sparkling blue eyes met glaring black ones. "Severus!" boomed the Headmaster, no matter how unnecessary a loud voice was in the close confines. "What a pleasant surprise! I was not expecting any company today. Do sit down and tell me of the latest atrocity committed by one our dear Gryffindors."  
  
Snape did not find the comment amusing, as Dumbledore obviously did, and folded his cloak more closely about himself. "I do not have time for this, Albus," he said with a scowl, "especially after the number of dratted passwords I attempted in order to get in here. Tell me, how many times do you plan on changing it without informing me?"  
  
From the grin that tugged playfully at Dumbledore's mouth, Snape highly suspected that the headmaster planned such occurrences as his idea of 'fun.' "Then what do you have time for, old friend?" he asked, without answering Snape's question.  
  
"I must ask a... favor."  
  
Dumbledore waved a wrinkled hand through the air as if to say, 'oh, is that all?' "Then ask it!"  
  
The Potions Master paused, glancing out the window behind Dumbledore as if to find the words he sought there. "I must ask you to give me leave tomorrow."  
  
The smile faded slowly from Dumbledore's face. "Tomorrow is Graduation, Severus."  
  
Misinterpreting his answer, Snape lowered his eyes. "I apologize, Albus. Forgive my intrusion."  
  
He turned to go, but Dumbledore's voice stopped him just as he put his hand on the door. "How long has it been?"  
  
Snape felt his blood run cold at the words, a blatant reminder of the past. "Twenty years," he whispered hoarsely. His fingers gripped the door, desperate to leave, to escape the onset of memories.  
  
"We shall miss you at the ceremonies."  
  
"Thank you," he forced out before fleeing the room, his long cloak billowing behind him.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes followed the dark figure, losing something of their happy sparkle. In his heart, he could feel the sadness that exuded from the man, no matter how he tried to hide it.  
  
"You must find your peace, Severus," he whispered, even though Snape had gone.  
  
But he already knew what the response would have been. "I shall never know peace, Albus. Never again will I comprehend the meaning of the word."  
  
The knowledge of that bleary future saddened Dumbledore even more than his knowledge of the sordid past.  
  
***  
  
Though he had not been to the place in years, he still knew the way well. Each step had been burned into his memory twenty years earlier.   
  
Suddenly, it was as if he were eighteen again, walking briskly along the stone path. The dull burning in his left arm sent a thrill of elation through him. For the first time in his life, he felt powerful, in control. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It exhilarated him.  
  
Filled with his new power and with the Dark Lord's orders, the young Severus Snape strode along the path, each step long and sure. He was at the highest point of his life up till that moment. A recent graduate- just that night, in fact- of Hogwarts, with highest honors in Potions, and now he was among the esteemed and feared ranks of the Death Eaters.  
  
He had joined only a week before Graduation, and now he had his first orders, as a 'graduation present,' from Lord Voldemort, to prove his loyalty.  
  
Closer and closer he came, his resilience never failing. Only when he set his foot on the familiar gravel path did he balk for the first time. He peered out from beneath the hood of his Death Eater's cloak.  
  
***  
  
Snape reached up absentmindedly to remove his hood before he realized that he was no longer a Death Eater, and no longer eighteen. He closed his eyes against the scene before him, but only saw it more vividly, except twenty years previously. Deciding that it was not worth the effort to fight the memories that would come anyway, he opened his eyes once again.  
  
It was amazing how little had changed, even after all these years.  
  
The house that stood before him was a grand two-story stone mansion. Twenty years ago, there had only been two occupants, strange for such a large home. But now, the building stood empty and desolate, dark windows staring back at him like cavernous eyes.   
  
He forced himself to look away from those eyes, eyes darker than his own and, if possible, more hollow. His gaze followed the curve of the stones, stones that had stood there for centuries, since the very first member of the family had begun construction on the chateau. He had known the home so well.  
  
Something ached inside of him, a desire to enter through the front door once again, to hear the familiar voices greeting him, welcoming him back. He took a hesitant step forward.  
  
***  
  
As he stepped onto the path, Severus reached up with a pale hand and pushed back the hood of his robe. There was no need for secrecy here. The sole occupants would be expecting him. A twisted smile tugged at his thin lips, curving them upwards nastily. All hesitation left him as he made his way to the door, stepping through with a push.  
  
The door closed with a resounding 'bang' behind him, but he made no other noises as he glided silently through the halls. He quickly found his way to the sitting room, where he knew they would be. They hardly altered their routines from day to day- hadn't been able to alter them enough to attend his own Graduation. He folded his arms into the depths of his robes, concealing the iron grip he had on his wand.  
  
The two looked up as he entered as if they were one. His dark eyes took them in. Natalia was seated comfortable in a plump chair by the fireplace, a long black dress clinging to her spindly frame, her dark hair spilling down her shoulders to blend in with the material. Her usually pale cheeks were flushed slightly from the flame's heat and her blue eyes sparkled in the firelight.  
  
Across from her in a matching chair sat Marcus, reading the night's news. His chiseled figures strongly resembled Severus', though his black hair was slicked back behind his ears, emphasizing the widow's peak of his forehead. His features remained cold and pale, as if the fire had no effect on him whatsoever.  
  
Anger coursed through the boy's veins. This was the reason they had neglected to show up for Graduation? To spend yet another silent night alone in the same way they did every damn night? Marcus regarded him coolly. "Good evening, Severus. We were not expecting you so early?"  
  
He bristled again. Did they know nothing of him that they thought he might go out celebrating with his non-existent friends? Fools. "How were the ceremonies?" she inquired, already tiring of looking at him and returning her gaze to the dancing fire.  
  
"It went well," he said simply, concealing his emotion as he always did.  
  
"And were you Head Boy?"  
  
Severus could not resist a pointed glare towards the older man. "No. I was not. The Potter boy was."  
  
"Oh," came the reply, uninterested. He was already re-engaged in the news.  
  
He could not restrain himself any longer. Stepping forwards, he removed his wand from his robes and directed it towards Marcus. "Crucio!"  
  
As if suddenly caught on a string, the man's body jerked from the chair. He fell unceremoniously onto the marble floor and he began to writhe, moaning aloud in pain. The boy's dark eyes fastened on the sight, a malicious smile cutting across his pale face. A twisted thought entered his mind- he was enjoying this.  
  
Vaguely, he registered the sight of Natalia crying out and leaving her seat to run to her husband. "No!" he cried, turning his wand on her. He would not allow her to interrupt this incredible pleasure. "Expelliarmus!" he cried, and she was instantly caught off her feet and sent flying into the back wall, where she crumpled to the ground, unmoving.  
  
He turned his complete attention back to his current victim, who was staring blankly, unbelieving, up at Severus. "Crucio," the boy whispered, relishing the way the word rolled over his lips. Again, the man crumpled into fits of convulsions, clutching blindly at anything nearby to try to end the fitful shaking.  
  
Severus watched all this with the greatest of enjoyment, savoring each stab of pain that shot through the man's body. This is not only for Voldemort, he thought, but for all the times I have gone ignored, unnoticed, for all the times you should have cared.  
  
He knew the past did not matter anymore, but it still hurt. It hurt like hell, though no one would ever have guessed at the depths of his pain. But now, he would end his pain. He would have his revenge against all who had done him wrong.  
  
The man's pathetic twitching finally ceased, and Severus had to admit that he admired the restraint he showed. He had never screamed against the pain, as most would do. But then, those from Slytherin were always strong. That was one trait he was grateful for.  
  
He stared down into the matching black eyes. There was nothing else to be grateful for, he realized, and he quickly grew tired of torturing him with spells. It was time to end it. The tip of his wand stared straight at those black eyes. Marcus attempted to open his mouth to say something, but before he did-  
  
"Avada Kedarva." A bolt of green light shot from the wand, encompassing Marcus in the glow. He screamed, for the first time. The sound echoed like a gong through the otherwise silent room. He writhed painfully on the ground before his movements ceased forever.  
  
Severus allowed himself a low chuckle. He felt suddenly free. The oppressive force that had weighted him down for eighteen long years lay dead before him. No longer would he exist simply to be tread upon by others. He would be somebody, someone powerful- someone who could control life or death.  
  
Suddenly, a strangled cry from the corner caught his attention. Natalia was staring at him, horrified, uncommon tears streaking her face. It was strange, he had never seen her cry before now. It stirred something inside him- something that still remained human, even after the rest had become a monster.  
  
"Severus," she whispered, her voice trembling. He stared at her as she slowly got to her feet and approached him. She dropped to her knees beside her husband and placed her delicate fingers against his neck. With a sob, she turned accusing eyes to him. "He's dead."  
  
He laughed coldly. "Of course. What did you expect, silly woman?" Her mouth attempted to form words, but nothing came out. Still, he knew what she would say. "Why? That's a simple one. It was my orders." He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark that was permanently burned onto his alabaster skin. She gawked at it, understanding for the first time the gravity of the situation. "Several of us have joined," he explained calmly, as if telling her that they joined the local Quiddich team.  
  
Her eyes implored him to tell her that it wasn't so, and if it was, to come back to her, to be her little boy again. But he was too far gone to be affected, too lost in the glorious burning of the Dark Mark. Any part of him that might have been touched by her sad eyes was locked away in his cold heart, hidden beneath the orders of his Dark Master. He was not her son any longer, he was a son of Voldemort. And Voldemort punished his children far more harshly than any natural parent ever would. Which was why disobedience in the Death Eaters was almost non-existent.  
  
His eyes darkened as he regarded her. "You could join us. My Master would be pleased to have such a.... unique addition to our ranks."  
  
She hardly registered his silken words. Her mind could not comprehend what was happening. She, one of the greatest Slytherins in Hogwarts history, reduced to shaking in fear before a Death Eater... Death Eater... the words caused a shiver to course through her body. "No," she whispered, the words falling hard as her sentence of death. "No, my son."  
  
He froze at the words, his knuckles turning white where they gripped his wand. "Do not call me that."  
  
She shook her head, reaching out to grab a fistful of his robes. "Severus... my son... please."  
  
He kicked her arm away with a disdainful scowl. "Pathetic," he growled. "A true Slytherin would not beg. You should be ashamed." He gestured towards the still form of his father. "He did not beg for my mercy, would not have." He snorted angrily. "He never showed any feeling, did he, my dear Mother?" It was the first time he had addressed her as such in years. "No feelings. Not anger, nor pain, nor sadness... nor love." His grip tightened further on the wand, threatening to break it. "He never cared for me and would not let you do so either. Though I doubt you would have done much differently. You wouldn't do a damned thing without his approval, would you?"  
  
She stared up at him. "Are you so different, my Severus? You now have your own Master, your own rules to follow. Do not be so quick to judge."  
  
"I am nothing like you," he spat out. "Nothing." He began to stalk about the room, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. "I have chosen this, chosen to serve the greatest master this world has ever and will ever know. I have power, power I never would have possessed. I chose this."  
  
Her cheeks flushed scarlet and she tore the ring from her left hand and flung it at him. "You think I didn't have a choice?! I chose my life as well, in case you didn't care to notice."  
  
He stared down at the glittering ring, the bright gold in stark contrast to the dark marble floor. He then turned his head to regard her. "You did choose your life... just as you have chosen your death, even now."  
  
Trying to hide her trembling, she stood, approaching him with unsteady steps. She grasped his hand in her own and raised it until the point of his wand was even with her heart. She nodded slowly. "Yes, I have chosen." Her dark eyes stared into his. "Go on, kill me, Severus. Do as your Master has commanded." Her cold hands still grasped his. "Just promise me something, my son. Promise me one last thing before you do what you came to do."  
  
His eyes narrowed into black slits. "What do you want?"  
  
Her eyes were as cold as her hands as they bored into his own. "Promise me that you will not forget this, no matter how many years you live on this god-forsaken earth. Do not forget this night."  
  
He nodded once, slowly, before opening his mouth and speaking two last words to her. The force of the spell in such close range sent both of them to opposite corners of the room, where Severus crumpled to the ground, senseless for the time being.  
  
***  
  
The ground beneath him felt nothing like marble. That was his first thought as he regained consciousness. He looked up, expecting once again to see the twisted form of his dead mother, but instead all he saw was the abandoned house before him. He shook his head, attempting in vain to clear his thoughts.  
  
That had been twenty years ago. It should not affect him as it did. So why could he still recall every detail, every word? The memories should have faded with time. And yet...  
  
"Do not forget this night." His mother's words came back to him once again. The wind whipped about him, tangling his hair and whispering the words tauntingly, jeeringly. "Do not forget..." The curse of those words was still with him after twenty years, and he knew it would haunt him until his death.  
  
And rightfully so. He, of all people, deserved such a tortured fate.  
  
Slowly, he made his way around the grounds, to the very edge of the woods behind the house. There were two twin headstones, covered in moss and leaves. He dropped to his knees in front of the stone memorials, raking the encrustments from the headstones with his bare hands.  
  
Suddenly, the words swam before his eyes, making them impossible to read. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and twin drops of moisture fell from his eyes, cascading down his thin cheeks to splash onto the hard ground. He scowled, angry with himself. He was crying, for God's sake. Crying, like he had a heart.  
  
No such thing existed inside his shrived soul. His heart was frozen, withered from years of unuse. All he had was regret... regret that was twenty years too late.  
  
His hand rested against the carved words, his thin fingers idly tracing the engraved letters, as if trying to caress the name back into being. A scream welled up in his throat, a scream of frustration, guilt, anger, hatred... but he clenched his teeth together until they ached, not allowing himself the liberty of vocalizing his pain.  
  
He gripped the headstone, his nails digging painfully into the rough surface. The pain was too much to bear for one man. His short nails cracked, and still he clawed at the stone until his fingertips bled from the abuse. And then, in the solitude of the past, he finally let go.  
  
His shoulders shook with silent sobs as he pressed his forehead against the stone of his mother's grave, his tears mixing with the blood flowing from his tattered fingers and staining the granite with red rivers of color.  
  
The effort left him drained, mentally and physically, and for several moments he was forced to lean against the tombstones to keep himself from collapsing. Finally, he was able to rise. He gazed down at the words that read 'Natalia Snape.'  
  
"I won't forget, Mother. I won't forget. I promise you that."  
  
He swallowed the lump in his throat and disappeared into the forest, leaving his past behind him once again, just as he had twenty years prior.  
  
And yet, it was something he still carried with him, something he would carry with him until the day that a third tombstone would be added to those behind the looming mansion. Only then would the sins of his past be laid to rest with his body.  
  
And for Severus Snape, that day could not come soon enough.  
  
Until then, however, he would carry on.  
  
***  
  
"Welcome back, Severus." Albus regarded the Potions Master with a soft smile. "I trust your business was accomplished."  
  
He nodded slowly. "Yes, it was. Thank you."  
  
"Of course." Snape turned to go, but once again the Headmaster stopped him. "Happy Graduation, Severus."  
  
Snape turned his gaze back to Dumbledore. His eyes were uncharacteristically pained and expressive. "Happy Graduation, Albus."  
  
To the new graduates, they had learned all they possibly could. But others at Hogwarts knew that some things took much longer to learn. Some even took twenty years to figure out. And those were the things that you treasured, no matter how much they hurt you. Those were the things that you would never forget.  
  
End. 


End file.
